Fragments of Me
by Razer Athane
Summary: 100th fic. -Me Series: Oneshots- #3 Letters: 'Truth is, you're my reason for fighting. You have been for a long time.'
1. Mistletoe

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OCs.

Author's Note: One hundredth fic! And what better way to rejoice that than by going back to where it began, if only for a bit (so... yeah)?

Because you see, while I was writing those Me Series stories, I had been writing oodles of oneshots from that world, and with those people. In the end... it ended up something akin to over four hundred pages of it – I think that was nearly more than the series itself? I can't remember. I think it's a nice way to celebrate and to say cheers, don't you?

So. A few oneshots for those who are still around, for those who pushed me. Enjoy :)

* * *

**FRAGMENTS OF ME**

* * *

**Mistletoe  
**_Note:__ Written with the intention of being a side-event during Take Me Back._

Hwoarang's nose was to the glass. It was snowing, and, he absolutely adored snow. Razer was beside him, just watching them fall, and was already all rugged up to go and play outside. To think she'd been here for two years already, and finally made a friend. With a light smirk, she shoved him, watching as he feigned an annoyed expression, "You look like a hyperactive little kid getting a toy. Settle down."

"But it's snowing," he remarked, the feigned expression being replaced by an excited smile, "I love the snow, man. So much. So many good memories. Gonna make so many fuckin' snowballs…" He looked around for the phone, "Hey, I should call Shin and Changmin and get them over here. Then we can all team up against Changmin and throw a bazillion snowballs at his face –"

"Do you ever think that perhaps you pick on him a bit too much?" she queried.

"We've told him that if it's too much, then to speak up. So far that hasn't happened, so I assume it's alright," he shrugged a little before grabbing her hand and pulling her out the backyard, sinking into the ground, "Let's go play! We don't need them anyhow. And I promise I won't throw snowballs at your boobs, considering they're, as you said, 'swollen'."

"I still can't believe I bothered telling you."

"Wellllll," he chimed, looking back at her just as she stepped off of the back veranda and into the snow, "I was concerned. And it's not like I've belted it out to the whole neighbourhood anyway. Best friends keep each other's secrets, and that, as far as I'm concerned, because it's pretty private, is a secret. Must suck to be a girl and cop that time of the month near Christmas time."

"You talk too much."

"You don't talk enough," he didn't notice her roll her eyes and let go of his hand as he continued up ahead, because he was still speaking, "Seriously, you're like this kid that just sits in the corner and does his work at school. I can't quite remember what his name is but he's exactly like you. Rarely speaks unless spoken to, usually is kinda formal in his speech –"

He let out a strangled noise when something hit him in the back of the head. He stuck a hand to the back of his head, realising that it was freezing, and then deduced that he'd already had a snowball thrown at him. When he saw Razer standing there, giggling, he knew that his suspicions were correct. She spoke, "And does this person you speak of throw snowballs too?"

Soon enough, a war started. Their accuracy was dead even, but Hwoarang's throws were harder. True to his word, however, he didn't aim for her chest. The fight had taken them to the cherry tree, and snowballs were abandoned in favour of tickling hands and laughter and rolling around in the snow until she'd pinned him down in victory, her hands holding down his wrists, her body anchoring his.

"I win."

"Yeah yeah. I _let _you win. There's a difference."

"Oh you're just too proud to admit defeat."

She continued to talk, and he listened because he loved the sound of her voice, but his eyes had quickly shifted from her face to that little item hanging off of a branch in the cherry tree. He squinted before raising an eyebrow, knowing that the handiwork had been done by none other than Baek. He wondered for a few moments why he put it there, but then he realised it was because they would both end up underneath the tree again at some point, such as now.

"Hey," Razer growled, nudging him with one of her legs, successfully recapturing his attention, "Are you listening to me?"

He answered her by somehow managing to worm one arm out of her grip and grab the back of her head, pulling her down for a kiss. She was frozen all over for a good few moments – it was an unusual act for him to do this, and it always still surprised her – before letting go of him and placing her hands on either side of his face. Still preoccupied with his mouth, he grabbed one of her hands and placed it over his heart, before pulling away, "Are you?"

They both said nothing.


	2. Symbol

Author's Note: Wahey, you guys are still around! Hey :)

* * *

**Symbol**  
_Note:__ Alternate point of view at the start of Just Like Me._

The first time Jin ever saw the symbol, it had been the night it was branded on his arm.

He recalls searing pain, as though his skin was melting – and then nothing. In the darkness, he saw nothing, nobody – he only heard voices that he had followed out into the forest. And then this... thing – who he now knows to be Devil – branded him with a mark. Or so he says, but can the Devil, who he now hears in his head, really be trusted?

Sometimes Devil insists that he's always been there, lying in wait in his soul and his genes; other times he suggests that he was _chosen_ for greatness, something that Jin still finds difficult to digest. And just like Devil says he chose Jin, Jin _chooses_ to believe that it is a gene, because who knows what undocumented mutations come from families?

He's gone through his grandfather's vast stack of books, finding hints of such things happening in the past, but there is nothing that suggests a cure. Often Heihachi will interrupt and tell him to return to training or complete his homework, but Jin still sneaks in from time to time to read when he's supposed to be asleep. He looks around at other people – westerners with tattoos, the Yakuza – he never sees that symbol.

At least, until he is with Xiaoyu in South Korea, on a business trip with Heihachi to promote the King of Iron Fist Tournament Three.

He's seen glimpses of it while the girl's fighting – and if his calculations are correct, it is completely rigged. It's not on her arm, but rather her hip, where he can see the first half of the pattern peeking out the top of what he assumes to be some cloth wrapped around her waist, like a belt. In between fights, or when waiting around with the other men, she always pulls it up to cover it.

Something inside of him calls to her. Something in Devil pulls him to her, trying to reach out. Devil is much stronger, much more determined in her presence, almost threatening to overwhelm him.

Xiaoyu asks if he is fine, because she knows he's not. She knows him well, having spent a long time reading his actions and trying to tunnel underneath his walls. So instead of telling her what he really feels, he mentions, as fighters swap over and as money is exchanged again, that he has worked out that the fight is fixed. That people are losing money, like the sumo wrestler. He shouldn't judge – he is fortunate, a son of comfort – these people are only doing what they need to survive.

But it is still dishonest, and if it is one thing Jin struggles to grasp, it is that.

Still, he remains silent, despite Xiaoyu's badgering to say something.

There is someone else in the ring. Jin does watch him for a while and notes that his skill level is superior to everyone else from the gang. He is fluid, passionate, and powerful, like fire. It makes his skin crawl and his curiosity heighten, but he forces them back down and refocuses his attention to the foreign girl, who has a tiny smile on her face as she watches him.

The redhead had watched her too, when she fought. With an identical smile.

Devil continues to pull and tug and fight against Jin's mental control, desperate to get to the woman, or make Jin go to her. Devil is so erratic that he can't even explain to his host why, just that he must, they must, this must be done.

Jin wonders if her symbol, the parts he cannot see, are identical to his. The same curves, size, and sharp, pointed ends. The ink on her skin is the only one he has seen that could even be close to his. In no book or other documentation had he seen anything close – he'd seen the marks of vampires and Gods, but not that. And it makes him almost delirious with hope that someone - _that she_ understands.

He wonders if her genetics are faulty like his. If there is a devil within her too. If lies and hate and wrath are fed through her veins like Devil tries to with him.

Xiaoyu nudges him sharply in the arm, pointing out that a majority of the gang members are heading away – but the girl is looking right back at him. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her expression is borderline curious, as though she can sense his thoughts. As though she has always known what he was. As though she can see right through him.

Xiaoyu is blabbering, but her voice, her voice rises above, strong and clear, "Is there a problem here?"

It takes Jin a moment, some nagging from Xiaoyu is what pushes him in the end, but he speaks, "We know the fight was fixed."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Devil's desperation, his anger and his desire thrums through Jin's veins; and he feels _alive_.

The corner of his lips curve upward into a smirk.


	3. Letters

Author's Note: Fun fact - this was one of the first ones I wrote, way back when. And it still surprises me that there are people who still read the series. Thank you!

* * *

**Letters**  
_Note:__ Written with the intention of being an event between Just Like Me and Better Than Me._

* * *

BT,

This is the first letter I am writing to you. I'm surprised I was able to resist it. Eight weeks is a long time to be without your best friend, given that we have been attached at the hip for so many years. Are you faring alright? Did they end up cutting your hair? :P

I am trying to pick up your leadership for the others, but I do not and never have had your confidence.

They are becoming scattered, divided as time goes on. Seong-Hada's own attempts fall on deaf ears, for he is young, and they think they know better. I think they are reverting to their old ways, before they allied themselves with us, but I cannot tell. Some of their gazes are darker than they used to be.

The nights are cold, and long; she continues to whisper, and I continue to slowly crumble. I thought I would be okay on my own – but when am I ever really alone? – but so far, the descent continues to approach.

Stay safe.

SW.

* * *

SW,

There's been a few times at night where I stare at a blank piece of paper. Half-chewed pen in my hand, and not a thought to put down. But you're right – eight weeks is a long time to be away from someone that you've been 'attached at the hip' to.

I'm fine. A month at a time. First set of training is done. Twenty four months of active duty. I'd been hoping for public service, but it didn't fall into place.

And yeah, it's been mowed right down. Don't ask for a picture.

Sorry to break it to you, but I'm not as confident as I come across. Honestly, I don't know better than some of them there. Some have been on the streets longer than us, and I often forget it. Dunno why they follow my advice. They were the ones who worked out how to hide, and steal, and live with what was given before we encountered them.

But keep trying. I'm sure they'll understand. Just don't let them split any further. It's not good for any of us. Someone else might try and attack.

I can't be there to stop the voices. I can't be there to wake you up from the nightmares of your past. And I can't be there to remind you that you are not her, but I can say this: you are a _good person_. Don't you ever let her take that away.

Stay strong.

BT.

* * *

BT,

Just shy of two months this time. It's been difficult trying to hold everything together, and everything in. No one can know.

Hopefully it's starting to grow back? I know that you pride yourself on your hair a lot, though I've no idea why. It looks like a red mop half the time... Hopefully my joking tone's coming across. And I'm sure I will get a picture somehow.

You are in the very least more confident than me. And while that may be the case, it's not like we abandoned all their concepts.

They responded a bit better, but I wonder how long that will hold for. Not very long, in my opinion. Nas-San misses you. A few of them do. Others aren't really all that bothered. 'Just as long as he doesn't get killed' Roh-Hwang often snorts. Which I know you won't. You value life too much.

I am a good person... I tried to say this out loud and found that I could not. I might've been that way once, but she changes me, just as she has changed other people.

I miss you.

SW.

* * *

SW,

Don't have a lot of time. Been... misbehaving a bit. It's not like they can kick me out, anyway. Too important. Too successful in missions.

My hair doesn't grow back that fast. You should know that by now. And yeah the tone was fine.

Just keep doing whatever it is you're doing. No one expects you to fill my shoes. Really, no one expects you to hold down the fort either, unless they start doing really bad shit. How's SH doing? Cooking getting any better?

'You value life too much,' yeah, I suppose I do. I just... I'm starting to crack, you know. Miss you too.

BT.

* * *

BT,

There is no point in keeping track of time; not in the dark, or the light, or the days that will go by either way.

Her words are poison... She continues to force it down my throat and into my mind; I cannot hide. There is nowhere to run. No one fucking understands.

I can't keep doing this, there is only so much torment someone can take. There are only so many times I can see my parents lying dead, or the people _I have killed_ in the streets drowning in their own blood. The young boy suffocating, and then _nothing_; and then I wake with his throat in my hands and thank God for concealing me in a dark alley.

But God abandoned me the very day I flew away.

Yet I cannot fault him for it, because he brought me to you. What on earth would I do without you?

I can't take this, Hwoarang; I feel like I am going insane. I can't say a damn word, and no one understands.

Not even you.

SW.

* * *

SW,

You are strong and wise; my pillar through my own uncertainty.

You are kind and caring; and you are cared for in return.

You are better than her.

_You have always been better than her._

Do not let her take you away.

BT.

* * *

BT,

I'm sorry about that last letter. I don't know what happened. I don't remember what I wrote... but as I hold your most recent one in my hand, I assume it was... undesirable. I'm okay now, sort of. A few wounds from various incidents, but there has been worse ones.

I will keep your letter close with me for all times; I fear I need that reassurance more often now than ever before. But I wonder how... how Jin coped with this all on his own before his... death. It still is strange to acknowledge that he isn't here. It does not feel like anything has changed in her.

Hopefully you are staying safe, and alive; maybe the hair is growing back to a more reputable state at this point. And thank you for the call before. I... am ashamed to admit that I had almost forgotten the sound of your voice.

Be strong, like I know you are.

SW.

* * *

SW,

Don't worry about what happened. Just feel better, yeah?

Kazama, the douche... he cared about you a lot. Said you're a good person, like I've told you before. That you're kind and all that, like I know you are. I don't know if he helped you, or if he bettered you. I just hope you learnt whatever it was that you had to learn from him.

But I suppose in the end, I will never understand how you or he felt with that thing inside you. I don't have that gene. And I don't want it. I don't need it. And neither do you. You are your own person, just as he was. Just because you're 'sick' doesn't mean you have to shut down. Maybe we should talk about Kazama a bit more, see if it helps you cope.

If nothing has changed, do you suppose perhaps nothing happened? Think on that.

You are stronger than me.

BT.

* * *

BT,

I know Jin cared a lot about me, but I am surprised that you took the time to move aside your pride and grudge to see it. He was not a bad person... he never was... And it grieved me to watch you two fight.

All people offer all sorts of things to others. Whatever Jin's... lesson for me was, I don't know if I learnt it. I don't know if I ever will. I just know I wish he was still back. I know he died because I felt it.

I don't want to speak of Jin again in these letters, please. The knowledge is still scalding.

Tell me more about the army. You have said nothing.

You are missed.

SW.

P.S. Seong-Hada is going to try and ship some food to you. And yes, he is getting better. He promises to make you a fancy dish of your choice when you return.

* * *

BT,

Have I done something? You've not replied.

Are you well? Tell me about your army friends. What drills have you done? What were your exercises? Are you able to tell me where you are deploying to?

The Zaibatsu has been making some moves... but I don't know what. I don't speak the language, and Seong-Hada doesn't translate very well. A new tournament is on the horizon, but I dunno when. He says sometime within the next few months. Seong-Hada adds that there's something about old rivalries, old competitors. It seems Heihachi is offering the MFE up as a prize. Bait?

I have been sitting on top of a church lately. I am beginning to imagine your return. Sometimes I see a bike and think it's you, though it isn't. But it's nice up here, away from everyone, from everything; there are... things... happening back home. They are scattered, and I cannot unite them. I am so tired. She has worn me down. It is an effort to keep myself together.

Two of them... are darker... than what we imagined. And they are well practiced with their knives. It hurts. I hope you understand what I am saying.

I must admit that I am selfish. I want you to come home. I can't do this on my own. I thought I could but honestly this has just proven how much I need you.

Sagapo,

SW.

* * *

BT,

I can't stand the thought of having done something. SAY SOMETHING. Please?

SW.

* * *

SW,

Communication has been cut. Phone privileges revoked. You've done nothing.

Your last two letters came, but I can't seem reach to you.

This letter has been smuggled in a friend's one back home. Please tell me you got it.

Sarang hae yo,

BT.

* * *

BT,

You wish to talk about Jin? Then I will talk about Jin.

He is a bigger man than you, because he walked away. He put down whatever bullshit he was festering against you – _if anything_ – and didn't interfere in a single damn thing. He could've easily told me that you were evil, or that I shouldn't hang around you. Could've easily told me that you were bad for me, cruel with your mouth and mind.

Does this sound familiar?

He could've done so much and yet all he fucking did was fight his own demons, try to help me get through my own, tolerate your _fuckery_ and even tried to be friends with you. But to you it was like he was not making an effort.

You would look at him as though he were the very house fire that killed Baek, or the thing that runs through my veins. With that... powerful hate.

What the fuck has he done to you other than chip your pride? Are you _that_ concerned about yourself?

I wish you weren't like that. You are amazing and wonderful, but your flaws... They are heavy. They are strong and they are so deeply ingrained in you that I sometimes wonder if it's even worth _imagining_ that you would look at me the same way I look at you.

I was tired of waiting, Hwoarang. Wasn't our story supposed to be how things happened? Girl meets boy, girl falls in love with boy, boy loves her back? _Isn't that what we are? What we were? What we were going to be?_

You wanted to know why I was so fucking upset by Jin dying? It wasn't because he was the only other person in the entire fucking world to carry the same curse – I don't think that even sunk in for you – but it was because we were together. Because I was damn fucking tired of waiting for stupid, fairytale romances to actually happen to someone like me.

Because how could you ever love someone like me?

I guess God had forsaken me there too. Even when I went off the path, he took it away. He took Jin away. What am I supposed to do now when I love you both so much? Can I look past him and find you, my dear sun, through the darkness again? Or will you burn out?

The church is not helping anymore and I am angrier than I have ever been. But, I don't know what at anymore.

Help me, for I cannot help myself.

It is too much.

SW.

* * *

SW,

Communication has been cut. Phone privileges revoked.

Your last letter said you were worried about having done something. I tried to respond.

You've done nothing. I'm the dickhead, here.

This letter has been smuggled in a friend's one back home. Please tell me you got it.

Sarang hae yo,

BT.

* * *

BT,

Your lack of letters are disturbing everyone. Nas-San is threatening to come over. Seong-Hada wants to know if you got his cookies. He's becoming very distressed. He is not eating very well, and he says I am not sleeping. Well, I am not here very often for him to judge.

I will be blunt. That last letter... forget about it.

You need to respond. It's been months. Are you even getting these? I wonder if you are happy, or if I was the cause of your despair. Are you in a warzone? What is happening and why will you not say anything? I have tried calling, but there is nothing. Is everything alright?

The world frightens me. I hear too many voices. I see you too many times coming home, only to find there is nothing there at all. The priest has noticed me perched on the church. He says nothing, but it is clear he worries. But, this is the only place I am safe now from the abuses back home. There is no order, only chaos, and secret slashes.

My ability to cope is on its last legs.

My mind will not last.

Please reply. Please.

SW.

* * *

BT,

I CAN'T

DO THIS ANYMORE

IT IS TOO

MUCH

SW.

* * *

SW,

They won't send my letters... They destroy whatever comes to me. I remember them saying something about food, I think, and other letters. I can't do anything... because I fucked the whole thing up.

This letter has been stuffed into a friend's envelope. He said he'd let me because I apparently look like shit. Roots are showing like hell, but its getting to a spiky stage now. I don't know what's happening. I haven't gotten anything from you in months. I've thought about you every day, and I've thought about escaping every hour.

Just remember this – I meant it when I said you were strong, and cared for. Don't let her take that away.

Sarang hae yo,

BT.

* * *

SW,

Reply to me. Tell me you're getting this.

BT.

P.S. I saw Heihachi on TV. Something about another tournament soon. Do you know anything?

* * *

SW,

I suppose this is my own fault. I mean, it's not like I actually have shit outside of here that I care about (hint: I do).

This is my last attempt at smuggling a proper letter out to you, Razer; and if you don't reply again, I don't know what I'll think. You might've just got up and left. Devil might've taken over. Maybe you forgot about me, but I doubt that. But there's too many maybes, too many possibilities going through my head. I can't think.

The missions are getting more dangerous. There's some war we're going to very soon. Copped a bullet to the shoulder a few weeks ago. Its better now, but it sort of reminds me of why I keep fighting to get through this, even if my motivations are running dry. I don't give a fuck about this country, I only give a fuck about getting this done so I don't have to do it again.

Truth is, you're my reason for fighting. You have been for a long time.

You remind me that there is good in the world. Don't give me that bullshit about Devil. You're still fighting through all of that and you're _winning_, because you're still here, you still go through life, and you still feel. I just hope that hasn't changed when I get back. Two years is a long time. I only want you to be happy... even if that was with Kazama, talking about things that I could never comprehend.

You've asked many times what sarang hae yo means. I keep telling you it's nothing bad, and it isn't. But I suppose, if it's my last chance to be able to say it – because who knows, maybe this warzone will fuck me over - then I'll tell you. Even if there's still a giant chicken part of me that thinks it's a bad idea and has been saying that for the last few years.

This is so hard to write...

Pretty simple, its three words: I love you.

More than you can imagine.

Stay strong and remember that.

I fucking miss you.

BT.


End file.
